This recipe is Vindaloo-ish, but altogether milder, fruitier and sweeter while retaining the tang of the original pork vindaloo recipe.
Coconut cream, tomatoes and apricots give this easy pork curry a deliciously creamy, fruity, sweet and sour taste. Even if you are not a fan of fruit in curry (neither am I, usually), do try adding some slivered dried apricots towards the end of cooking this curry. It lifts the whole affair to a completely different level.
This recipe is one of those happy accidents when you start off making one thing, segue into another, think you’ve lost your way, fiddle a bit, and suddenly realise you’ve come right and created something rather fine.
So maybe it should be called ‘Come Right Pork Curry’.
Backstory: I buy all our household meat supplies directly from a butcher and last night defrosted a tub of what I took for diced lamb. I had planned a Sri Lankan, coconut milk-based lamb curry for today, but shortly after beginning to fry the diced meat, realised it was, in fact, pork. Hurriedly looking for a pork vindaloo recipe, I absentmindedly added a can of coconut cream to the pot. This is not part of a standard vindaloo recipe, but with all my tweaks along the way, everything ended up just fine.
In fact, the pork and apricot curry tasted absolutely delicious: meltingly tender after an hour in the oven with only a vague chilli warmth, and a wonderful sweet and sour, gentle fruitiness from the slivered apricots and tomatoes.
I could literally not walk past the pot without dipping a spoon in for yet another taste, even after several bowlfuls. Served with tarka dhal lentils and heaps of fluffy basmati rice, this has to be one of my easiest and most rewarding curry recipes ever. A surefire winner.
PORK AND APRICOT CURRY WITH TOMATOES AND COCONUT
Serves 6
Ingredients:
1.3 kg diced pork goulash (off the bone)
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 scant tablespoons (25 ml) mild curry paste – Korma or Madras
10 cardamom pods, lightly crushed in mortar with pestle or with back of a large knife
6 whole cloves
2 star anise
1 stick cinnamon or 2 pieces of cassia
1 1/2 t (7.5 ml) grated fresh ginger
1 t (5 ml) ground coriander
1 t (5 ml) ground cumin
1 teaspoon turmeric
1/2 tsp dried chilli flakes (to taste: make it as hot as you like. Proper vindaloo is VERY hot but I was cooking for children)
1 can (420 g) coconut cream (coconut cream is better than milk here for the texture)
1 can (420 g ) chopped tomatoes
1/4 cup (90ml) plus 1 T (15ml) white grape vinegar
salt to taste
1 t (5ml) brown sugar
a handful (about 3/4 cup) soft dried apricots, cut into thin slivers with kitchen scissors
1/2 cup Mrs Ball’s chutney
handful of fresh coriander, finely snipped
Method:
Preheat the oven to 180 C. Use a large, heavy bottomed cast iron pot with a tight-fitting lid, like Le Creuset or something similar. Fry the pork pieces in batches in just enough sunflower oil to coat the base of the pot. Don’t add too many pieces at once, otherwise the meat will steam instead of browning. Remove browned pieces with a slotted spoon to a bowl and carry on until all the meat is lightly browned all over, but not completely cooked.
Add a little more oil to the pot – about 2 T (15ml) and cook the onions until almost translucent but not brown. Add all the spices at once, return the meat to the pot and add the coconut cream and canned tomatoes, vinegar, salt and sugar. Bring to a mild boil, put the lid on and transfer the pot to the oven.
Set the timer for 1 hour. About 15 minutes before the end of cooking time, toss in the slivered dried apricots and return pot to the oven. Let stand for at least one hour before serving, for the flavours to develop. Just before serving, stir in the chutney and fresh coriander.
Meanwhile, cook the basmati and make tarka dhal from red lentils and tiny yellow mung lentils. Tarka dhal is served quite soupy, so add more water if yours looks like it’s getting too thick. It mustn’t be a stiff porridge sort of story, more of a sturdy gravy.
Tarka Dhal
Serves 6
Ingredients:
1 cup yellow mung beans, soaked in cold water for 1 hour and rinsed
1 cup red lentils, rinsed in a sieve under cold running water
1 t (5 ml) salt
1 t (5 ml) turmeric
1 t (5 ml) grated fresh ginger
1 t ( 5 ml) finely crushed fresh garlic
6 cups water
Method:
Simmer all the ingredients together over a medium heat in a large pot (it easily boils over, don’t put the lid on) until the lentils are very soft and the dhal thick and soupy. Add a little more hot water if it looks like it’s getting too thick. You don’t want a stiff paste, it should be the texture of thick minestrone.
Garnish:
3 T (45ml) sunflower oil
2 cloves garlic, finely slices
1 small onion, very finely sliced into rings
1/2 t (2.5 ml) whole cumin seeds
2 medium dried chillies
Method:
Heat the oil in a small frying pan and fry the garlic slivers until barely golden brown. Remove with a slotted spoon onto absorbent paper.
Cook the onions in the oil in the same pan until dark brown and crispy, remove with a slotted spoon onto absorbent paper.
Add the cumin seeds and chillies to the oil, fry until barely golden and aromatic. Toss into the pot of tarka dhal and when ready to serve, top with slivers of crisp golden garlic and onion.
Clockwise from bottom: pork and apricot curry, tarka dhal lentils, basmati rice
You can’t style a photo of tamatiebredie, and you shouldn’t.
Why? Because it is bredie. The wonder of Bredie is not about how it looks, but about how it tastes. And about how it makes you feel inside. Happy.
Bredie is a long, slow simmer of mostly vegetables, cheap cuts of meat, like the lamb neck chops I used for this recipe, and a few spices. You can probably make bredie without spices, but then it’s not really bredie, is it, just a sad affair involving meat and water.
I was taught how to make bredie by a wonderful Xhosa woman in Cape Town. I grew up in the Free State, where we don’t really cook or eat saucy, spicy food. Salt and pepper was pretty much our major seasoning. Stews, well, stews I messed up for a long time, until Thando taught me how to make bredie.
The secret to a bredie is not to add too much liquid all at once. In fact, this is the complete magic of a bredie: you need a big pot, preferably heavy-bottomed, with a tight-fitting lid. And you add little bits of liquid, a little bit at a time. The liquid teases out all the flavours of your ingredients. Too much liquid, and you just drown them.
I asked Thando: how do I know when to add more liquid? And she said: you will know when. The bredie will ask for it.
That, to me, is probably the most beautiful recipe instruction I have ever had. And it is true. This is another reason why I love bredies: you have to make a connection with your bredie to make it good. So it’s a relationship kind of thing.
So this made me think about bredies, how it’s made, by whom, and for who. Bredies are gesinskos, I think – food for the family. It’s usually served straight from the pot in my house. With rice. Lots and lots of rice.
I like to eat my bredie in stages: first, a bowl of rice with lots of the intensely flavourful sauce. Then I’ll have another bowl, and add some of the potatoes and a tiny piece of the meat and crush it all together. And finally, I’ll have some of the meat, all on its own, and relish every little fatty succulent piece of it. There will be some cardamom pods and a star anise flower left in the bowl, and it’s a good idea to suck the sauce off of them, and put them back into your bowl, sit back and think: damn. I’ve eaten well. I feel ready for anything now.
My recipe for tamatiebredie follows.
TAMATIEBREDIE
Ingredients:
8 lamb neck chops
2 onions, chopped
water
2 peeled and chopped carrots
1 star anise flower
5 cloves
4 cardamom pods
1 cup (250 ml) tomato puree
1 can (410g) chopped tomatoes in juice
1 small dried chilli
8 bayleaves
salt and ground white pepper ( it has to be white pepper, and lots of it)
1 tablespoonful Worcestershire sauce
sugar to taste
3 large potatoes, peeled and chopped up
Method:
Preheat the oven to 180 C. Put the lamb chops and onions into a large, heavy-bottomed casserole. Add about 1 cup (250 ml) water, and simmer for 20 minutes.
Add the rest of the ingredients except the potatoes, put the lid on the pot and place in the oven. Set the timer for 1 hour. Check every 20 minutes and add more hot water if the bredie needs it. A bredie must have sauce.
After 1 hour, add the potatoes, stir well, put the lid back on the pot and leave in the oven for another 50 minutes or so until everything is very tender.
You should have cooked some rice by now.
When the cooking time is up, let the bredie stand for about 30 minutes before you dish up. Prepare yourself for happiness.
Keftas, koftas…just another name for deliciously fragrant, mildly spiced lamb meatballs beloved throughout the Levant.
The recipe below was adapted from the one in Sabrina Ghayour’s Persiana cookbook, and it was made by my teenage daughter to celebrate her return to a carnivorous lifestyle (sigh of relief from Mom, who’d just about run out of enthusiasm for cooking two different menus for each meal).
So there you have it: keftas are so easy to make, even a child or teenager finding their way in the kitchen can whip some together.
Keftas are a fantastic snack with sundowners, so remember this recipe for your holiday entertaining. Make a big batch and keep the mixture in the fridge for up to 3 days before you roll your little keftas.
It’s much easier to bake keftas in the oven at 180 C for 15-20 minutes than to fry them in a pan. A lot less messy, too.
Lamb mince for keftas, as I found out years ago, needs to have a fair amount of fat, otherwise it dries out horribly. Sufficient fat will ensure lovely, tender and succulent little meatballs.
If you’re planning a meal with your keftas, add some jewelled couscous, and a nice yoghurt dip like the spiced one I give below, or else just tzatziki bought from the supermarket. Easy does it. It’s summer, isn’t it? You don’t want to be stressing and sweating in the kitchen.
PERSIANA LAMB KEFTAS WITH JEWELLED BURGHUL AND SPICED YOGHURT
Serves 4 – 6 (makes about 48 small meatballs)
Ingredients:
1 kg lamb mince
1 medium onion, very finely chopped and cooked until soft and translucent with 1 t (5 ml) crushed garlic
1 heaping teaspoon (7.5 ml) ground cumin
1 heaping teaspoon (7.5 ml) turmeric
1 teaspoon (5 ml) cinnamon
1 tablespoon (15 ml) dried mint
1/2 cup (125 ml) chopped cashew nuts or pine kernels (I didn’t have pine kernels, so I used chopped cashews. Same texture, really)
1 teaspoon (5 ml) salt
2 eggs
JEWELLED COUSCOUS
1 cup wholewheat couscous
1 teaspoon (5 ml) salt
1 T (15 ml) olive oil
juice of half a lemon (save the other half for your spiced yoghurt)
1 cup boiling water
1 teaspoon (5 ml) Nomu chicken stock or 1 T (15 ml) liquid concentrated stock
1 teaspoon (5 ml) sherry vinegar
handful each of fresh mint and fresh coriander leaves, finely chopped
handful of dried apricots, snipped into thin slivers with your kitchen scissors
handful of dried cranberries
handful of pistachios, lightly toasted
salt and pepper to taste
SPICED YOGHURT
1 cup (250 ml) Greek yoghurt
juice of half a lemon (use the other half of the lemon used for the jewelled couscous)
1/2 teaspoon (2.5ml) crushed garlic
1/2 teaspoon (2.5 ml) cumin
salt
dried mint to sprinkle over as garnish
sumac to sprinkle over as garnish
Method:
Preheat the oven to 180 C. Lightly spray two baking trays.
Mix all the ingredients for the keftas/meatballs together, using your hands to really squish the ingredients together. Keep on kneading and squishing for about 5 minutes, until the mixture begins to resemble a sort of paste. Roll into balls just smaller than hen’s eggs and flatten them a little bit.
Arrange on two oven baking trays and bake in the oven for 15 – 20 minutes, until just nicely brown.
Remove and serve warm or at room temperature with the jewelled couscous and spiced yoghurt, or with a dip as a party snack.
Couscous: Put the couscous and salt into a heatproof bowl and pour the olive oil in. Rub the oil through the couscous with your fingertips – this prevents clumping.
Mix the lemon juice, boiling water and stock together and pour over the couscous. Don’t stir and let stand for 20 minutes before fluffing with a fork. Drizzle over about 1 teaspoon (5 ml) sherry vinegar and fork through.
Use a fork to mix in the herbs, dried fruit and nuts and season to taste.
Spiced yoghurt:
Mix all the ingredients except dried mint and sumac together, which are sprinkled on top as garnish, and serve with the keftas and couscous.
Persiana lamb keftas with jewelled couscous and spiced yoghurt
You can’t say you’ve been to Cape Town good and proper unless you’ve had a Gatsby.
Forget your fancy sunset cocktails at your glamorous hotels and your twee canapés at cocktail parties; forget your hipster single origin organic lattes and your raw juice bars: Gatsbys are where it’s at if you want the real taste of Cape Town.
Now that the rest of the world is in turmoil and our currency has tanked nicely enough for us to be able to welcome a fresh batch of bright-eyed tourists to our shores, eager to try out our unique cultural offering, I thought it’d be a good idea to introduce you all to the culinary triumph that a good masala steak Gatsby really is.
Because it’s a damn fantastic thing. My kind of sandwich. Heroic in proportions; saucy, spicy, sloppy and messy, made to be shared, it somehow sums up the best of Cape Town’s spirit to me.
It’s all there in the juiciness and the flavour. And the chips! Never forget about the chips.
Or, of course, the loaf. The right loaf is crucial. It must be long, capacious, firm and fresh and not too crusty. You don’t want a crispy French loaf: crispiness does not fit into the spirit of a Gatsby at all. Oh no. People with passion gaps can’t bite down hard on crispy bread. (source: Mustapha Achmat)
Of course you can make a very decent masala steak Gatsby at home, like I did today. Except my Gatsby chips weren’t proper Gatsby chips; to be verified Gatsby chips, they must be slap tjips. Vet, en lekker slap. And properly dosed with vinegar and spice, nè?
Slaptjips are basically made from the wrong potatoes cooked at the wrong temperature, but somehow turning out delicious enough to have become a national staple. So if it’s authenticity you’re after at home when making your Gatsby, just remember this little tip: the wrong potatoes, cooked at the wrong temperature will give you slaptjips. (Source: Salvin Hirschfield, former potato farmer.)
To really experience a proper Gatsby, though, you have to stand in a sweaty queue somewhere, between the flotsam and jetsam of Cape Town’s streets; the lost, the poor and most of all, the ravenously hungry. A Gatsby is a filler of note, as they say in these parts. And it doesn’t cost a lot.
As they say: “Dit maak vir jou vol, en dit maak vir jou happy. En jy eet hom nie alleen nie.”
(It fills you up and makes you happy; and you don’t eat it alone. Source: Mustapha Achmat.)
My first encounter with a masala steak Gatsby was as it should have been: dazed and confused at the crack of dawn after a night’s hectic jolling in the clubs, on the pavement outside the Cadiz in Loop Street many, many years ago.
Cadiz was a 24-hour cafe, but no-one ever referred to it as Cadiz Cafe, it was The Cadiz. Or just plain Cadiz, and you always met the most amazing people there. Or not. Depending on what time of the day you went there. (Cadiz was a great leveller and I regret those times are gone…but luckily, Gatsbys are still with us.)
This experience, however, was the perfect introduction to Gatsby culture. Because it does have a culture and strict etiquette is observed when sharing a Gatsby. (See the excerpt below the photos, copied and pasted from the comments on my favourite online Gatsby recipe.)
A Gatsby tastes best when you’re happing one while on that crazy, hazy edge of inebriation just before bewilderment and the mother of all hangovers kick in.
Properly planned, your Gatsby consumption will save you from paralytic incapability once you wake up after your night on the tiles, leaving you refreshed, fortified and ready for a new day of mild wrestling for the TV remote control on your sofa and mulling over the confused excitement of the night before.
Gatsbys are to Cape Town what bunny chows are to Durban. Starch, sauce, heaps of flavour, some spice and a bit of protein. Eat-with-your-hands, workmanlike food. Stuff to keep you on your feet when you are the last soldier, or just super drunk. Or very tired and crazy hungry.
Gatsbys are amazing and popular meals for workmen and teenage boys. I had both in the house today, so I sent my son to Checkers with a shopping list and some cash. (Well, he did ask me for something interesting to do, and seeing as it is now school holidays, I reckoned the lad needed to start finding out what feeding himself entails.)
He returned sadly not with the requested tenderised steaks, but the next best option on the list, minute steaks. Now, as far as I can tell, minute steaks are called minute steaks because it takes you about a minute after purchase to realise you’ve made a giant mistake.
But heck, if that’s all you’ve got, just bash the merry hell out of your minute steaks with your kitchen mallet or otherwise the bottom of a wine bottle, sprinkle them with meat tenderiser and go HEAVY on the BBQ spice. Which needs to come from a packet, preblended. Obviously. If you attempt a masala steak Gatsby with fancy sauces or home-made spice blends, you’re missing the point about Gatsbys.
Masala steak Gatsbys are made with tenderised steaks. Cheap meat that has been mechanically abused to within an inch of its life. End of story. And don’t come here with your ribeye-this and your rump steak-that Gatsbys. Please. That’s a steak sandwich. Just get over yourself and go find a hipster bar and cry into your craft beer, OK?
Gatsbys are also made with slices of fried polony (Don’t ask. It’s Spam of a kind but not to be dismissed in the universe of Gatsbys), viennas, Russians (both sausages of obscure origin but no true ethnic qualification and quite tasty if you’re hungry or reckless enough), chicken, and such. Very much such, as it happens. You can segue endlessly along this line of Gatsby tinkering, and I think you should. Just keep it…basic.
For example: my very unique and completely amazing, super tasty Free State version of the Gatsby (invented when I was totally broke and totally starving) is made with thick slices of battered (as in a dough coating, duh), fried bully beef. Yes! It’s incredibly delicious! In fact, I want one right now.
I have a secret theory that my Bully Beef Gatsby might actually be the solution to world angst, but that’s a story for another day…
My vegetarian teenager daughter got a fried halloumi Gatsby today, which basically qualifies as a major food crime in my opinion. Next she’ll be demanding to vote, as well. Who knows where this will end?
What is essential to understand about a masala steak Gatsby or any other kind of Gatsby, though, is that it is a Celebration of Carbs. Yup. It’s basically a gigantic chip roll, with extra niceness. And a lot of spice. I’ve had many kinds of Gatsbys in my time – I am nothing if not a true gastronomic adventurer – but a masala steak Gatsby: aaaah man… that’s the King of Gatsbys.
The recipe below is adapted from one I found on the internet. It’s a gem. Really. Read it here:
I’d like to add one thing: in this time of Fear of Cultural Appropriation, I feel very strongly that, not only should everyone have a Gatsby and enjoy it, but we should be done with all the gatvolness and complaining and you, yes YOU, should find your inner Gatsbyness and experiment as you see fit with your own perfect filling.
As long as you don’t forget that the basic foundation of a good Gatsby is bread, chips and broederskap.
Make a Gatsby for the folks you love today, or tomorrow. Make it soon, and maak’it smaaklik!
BEST MASALA STEAK GATSBY ACCORDING TO ME
Feeds about 4-6
Ingredients:
500 g tenderised steak (some recipes advise using 1kg of meat, I feel that’s pushing it)
2 medium peeled onions, sliced very thinly into rings (This is crucial. Don’t come here with your chopped onions, man, it must be rings or nothing.)
oil
leaf masala (The hotter, the better. Use as much as you like. This is a freedom sandwich.)
BBQ spice, preferably a nice cheap mix, like Robertson’s, but you can go Nomu too. Whatever blows up your skirt, as they say on Cape Town streets.
meat tenderiser (oh please get over your shock and horror – it’s made from papain, an extract from papayas, a natural meat tenderiser. OK, if you want to be hipster about this, liquidise a cup of ripe papaya and gently bathe your cheap cut of meat in that while you post sunsets and selfies on Instagram.)
1 teaspoon of crushed ginger
1 very heaped teaspoon of crushed garlic – let your tastebuds guide you. But you want to be able to tell someone has had a Gatsby recently, so loads of garlic is required
1 heaped teaspoon of paprika
1 + 1/2 tablespoons of brown vinegar
1 teaspoon or a bit more of that leaf masala, the hot stuff
a pinch or a few more of chilli powder
one heaped teaspoon of sugar
2 tablespoonfuls of tomato puree or tomato paste, or just leave it out
1 teaspoon of turmeric
some bay leaves
water
chips
more oil
baguettes (French loaf full or half length, as long as it’s firm, fresh but not too crusty)
2 iceberg lettuces, finely shredded (nou is nie die tyd vir rocket nie)
sliced fresh tomatoes
salt and pepper
1/4 cup (60 ml) brown vinegar with a teaspoon of chilli powder stirred in, to season your chips
any sauce your heart desires
Method:
Face the fact the you have some cheap tenderised steak in front of you. Slap those babies on your kitchen work counter, and get busy. Bash them into submission with your kitchen mallet or the bottom end of a wine bottle and then sprinkle over lots of meat tenderiser and BBQ spice. Yes, do it. Let it mellow for about an hour.
Heat some oil and fry the onion rings very slowly over medium heat in a frying pan until it starts to caramelise and turns a deeply satisfying, dark brown. Maybe post a selfie or two at this stage. Or Instagram yourself making chia smoothies. I don’t know.
Scoop out the onions from the frying pan with a slotted spoon onto a plate lined with absorbent kitchen paper. Leave it until later.
Now the fun starts: turn the heat up hell high and fry the steak on both sides until nicely brown. Just brown. Don’t overcook it at this stage.
Next stage: Throw all the ingredients up to and including the bay leaves into the pan. Including the onions that you’ve forgotten about.
Turn the heat to very low, put a large lid over the pan and let it simmer very, very gently for 45-50 minutes. Add a dash or more of water from time to time as it cooks; there has to be enough liquid for the steaks to swim in. Masala steak is something akin to a smoor, as we call it in the Cape – a slow braise.
Just before your masala steak is done, you get furiously busy deep-frying some fat chips and draining them on a baking tray lined with absorbent kitchen paper, slicing fresh tomatoes, shredding iceberg lettuce like it’s nobody’s business, cutting baguettes in half, lining up all the condiments in the house on the kitchen counter.
You are not ready yet. Remove the steaks from the pan they have been simmering in, turn the heat up and reduce the delicious sauce to a syrupy consistency. Smear that stuff on both sides of your split long loaf and build your Gatsby step by step, according to the photos below. (If you use ciabatta for this, I will personally come by your house and strangle you.)
The final, vital step is squishing down firmly on your Gatsby, to blend all the ingredients into a nice, cohesive whole. Without this final squish, all you have is a sandwich. It’s the squish that makes it a Gatsby.
When you’re done eating, sit back and contemplate the beauty of a universe that meets your needs so perfectly. For you have had a masala steak Gatsby, and that is a truly wonderful thing.
Ingredients for Masala Steak GatsbySmoor steak with onions and spicesFinely shred 2 small iceberg lettuces. Add finely chopped fresh coriander if you like.Violently hot chilli sauce is optionalBuild your Gatsby: smear some sauce on both sides of your loafAdd a layer of shredded lettuce, then sliced tomato. Season well with salt and pepperSlice up your masala steaks to fit the loaf and place on top of the tomato slicesCrown your Gatsby with the essential layer of chips. Season liberally with chilli vinegar and saltAdd the sauce left over in the pan, or any other sauce your heart desiresAdmire your Gatsby from all sidesA Gatsby about to receive its final touch: the squishMasala steak Gatsby. The final, vital step to making it a true Gatsby: squish down firmly to blend the filling into a cohesive whole. Eat!
Footnote: to truly understand a Gatsby and the culture of Gatsbyness, please read this:
1. Keep the time between purchase and consumption of the Gatsby as short as possible. Cold chips are no one’s friend.
2. Cut the Gatsby into a maximum of four pieces. Anything smaller is a gross injustice to the Gatsby because there’s no way you’ll be filled by a fifth or less.
3. Any chip falling from any given piece of the Gatsby is considered fair game. The ruling on this is final.
4. When separating the Gatsby, note the point of division: practice absolute precision here to avoid taking the bottom roll of the next person’s piece. Ask for assistance if necessary.
5. You must finish your share. Besides it being a terrible waste, you’ll be scorned by the Gatsby Fraternity for all time for being vesin.
6. Grip is critical. Cup your piece in your hand so that loose bits have nowhere to fall except back into your hands. Avoid the scenario described in Point 3.
7. NEVER leave the Gatsby unattended.
8. It’s best to accompany the Gatsby with a beverage, i.e. Jive, Frulati or Cabana. Hearty burping guarantees relief.
9. Observe relative silence when consuming the Gatsby. No one likes to talk and eat at the same time. See Point 1 regarding cold chips.
10. Always wash hands with soap and water at the conclusion to avoid getting a spicy finger in the eye, a condition commonly known as Gatsby Eye. The only cure is self-induced crying. No one wants to see that, so just make the trip and wash your damn hands.
11. The bra that contributes the least towards the Gatsby gets the smallest piece.
12. The Gatsby is not supposed to be eaten out of a plate, so make sure you ask the BB.Sc (Bra Behind Shop Counter) to doublewrap the Gatsby to ensure enough paper for everyone.
13. Avoid eye contact with anyone not eating the Gatsby for fear of them asking for a “stukkie” or shouting “kap ‘n baat”.
14. When sipping on the Frulati, make sure you only have 2 sips then pass… anyone attempting more than 2 sips forfeit the next round.
15. Nothing on the Gatsby is to be wasted (refer point 5), that includes any salads or sauces still remaining in the paper… lick it up!
16. When the Gatsby is finished, it’s obligatory to finish the ritual with a cigarette; beware though of anyone asking for ‘n skyf; thus make sure you get some sauce on the filter of the cigarette to avoid having to share your ‘entjie’.
Fiery harissa paste. Photo by Sean Calitz from Relish: Easy Sauces, Seasonings and Condiments published by RHS
I first learnt to make this version of hot-hot-hot harissa paste many moons ago, when I was cook/presenter of a TV cookery series. Our guest for one episode whipped up some harissa and chermoula in her kitchen while her home-made bread was baking in the oven. I can’t remember what else was on the menu that day, because one lick of this voluptuous, seductive and very fiery spice paste, and I was hooked. Hooked with a capital H.
I’d always thought harissa was Moroccan, but it’s actually of Tunisian origin. The versions I’d encountered in Westbourne Grove during my years in London were altogether simpler and more basic than this recipe, which gives a lot more depth and subtlety due to the inclusion of fresh coriander and mint. It’s simply magnificent. Use it in cooking – as in any of the recipes featured in Persiana – or spread it as a condiment in sarmies, or mix with a little oil and use as a baste on meat and chicken before braaing.
In my experience, harissa tends to get more potent the longer it stands. If you cook with chillies regularly, you’ll have a fairly good idea which chillies and what level of fire you prefer. I once made harissa with small, dried birds’ eye chillies and it nearly blew my skull off. So beware. Start with the milder stuff before you progress to the extreme end of the scale. You can leave out the fresh herbs if you want.
Some recipes use up to 500g sweet red peppers, I use only 1. You can leave it out if you want to, you’ll end up with less paste and less of a sweet taste.
Harissa
Harissa is hot, hot, hot. Commonly served with Moroccan or Tunisian tagines and couscous, a little goes a long way. You could also mix it with some oil and yoghurt for a barbecue marinade with quite some kick. Otherwise use as you would any chilli sauce.
Makes about 300ml
Ingredients:
1 sweet red pepper, roasted in a hot oven or over gas flame until charred. Peel, scrape seeds out and chop roughly
225g fresh red chillies, deseeded and coarsely chopped
1-2 T (15-30ml) crushed garlic
½ T (7.5 ml) ground coriander
1 T (15 ml) ground caraway seeds
3 T (45ml) chopped fresh coriander
1 T (15 ml) dried mint or 2 T (30 ml) fresh mint, chopped
1 T (15 ml) salt
1 T (15 ml) tomato paste
1 t (5 ml) castor sugar
2-3 T (30-45 ml) olive oil to moisten
Method:
Process all the ingredients except the oil to a smooth paste, drizzling olive oil into the bowl while the blade is running to moisten the harissa just enough to form a paste. It musn’t be runny!
Spoon into a sterilised glass jar and drizzle more olive oil on top to seal the surface. Refrigerate for up to a month.
I was sent a copy of Sabrina Ghayour’s fabulous cookbook Persiana by my dear friend Karien all the way from Scotland – what a lucky girl I am! – and needless to say, my mind is on fire. Like everyone else, all I want to cook is Sabrina’s gorgeous food.
Yesterday I made no fewer than three recipes from the book – the spiced rice and lentil mojardara, the baby potatoes roasted in turmeric and cumin, and this beaut in the photograph – butternut with pesto, feta and pomegranate rubies. Baking butternut is a doddle, really – halve them, drizzle with olive oil, season well and bake at 180 C until tender and lightly caramelised before scooping out the seeds, add stuffing and bake a little longer.
Sabrina makes a pistachio pesto to spoon over her baked butternut, and I do give her recipe for it below in case you want to make it, but I was a bit lazy and used bottled basil pesto from Pesto Princess instead. Since I had 3/4 cup cooked green lentils leftover from the mojardara, I mixed that with 1 heaped tablespoon of chopped, toasted pistachios and spooned it into the butternut cavities.
Instead of crumbling over feta to serve, I made a feta cream from feta, cream, yoghurt, garlic, cumin, salt and chilli flakes, and spooned it over the lentils and butternut before baking. To serve, drizzle the baked stuffed butternut with pesto loosened with a little water to make it more runny, scatter over pomegranate rubies, and there you go. Delicious hot or cold, and filling enough to be a vegetarian main course.
If you’re cooking for vegetarians over the festive season, you’ve found your perfect party dish! Beautiful to look at, and big on taste.
This is my version of Persiana’s recipe:
BUTTERNUT WITH PISTACHIOS, GREEN LENTILS, PESTO, FETA CREAM AND POMEGRANATE RUBIES
Serves 4
Ingredients:
2 small butternuts, halved
1 heaped tablespoon (25 ml) pistachios, lightly toasted in a dry frying pan and chopped coarsely
1 cup (250 ml) cooked or drained, canned green lentils – any other cooked beans or lentils will do
1/2 cup (125 ml) cream
1 heaped tablespoon (25 ml) Greek yoghurt
2 wheels feta, crumbled roughly
1 t (5 ml) crushed garlic
1/2 t (2.5 ml) cumin
pinch of chilli flakes
salt and pepper to taste
1 T (15 ml) green pesto (rocket, Greek, basil etc)
2 t (10 ml) water
pomegranate rubies to serve – about 1 cup (250 ml)
Method:
Preheat the oven to 180 C. Cut the butternuts in half lengthways; drizzle each half with a little olive oil; season with salt and pepper. Bake cut side up on a baking tray for about 45-50 minutes until very tender and beginning to brown.
Meanwhile, make the feta cream: mix the cream, yoghurt, feta, garlic, cumin, chilli, salt and pepper and set aside. Mix the lentils with the pistachios and set aside. Mix the pesto with the water and set aside separately.
When the butternut is tender, scoop out the seeds and fill the cavities with the lentil-pistachio mix. Spoon the feta cream over each stuffed butternut, and bake for another 15-20 minutes.
When ready, remove butternut from the oven and place on an attractive serving platter, drizzle over the pesto, scatter over the pomegranate rubies and feast!
Sabrina Ghayour’s pistachio pesto:
Ingredients:
100g pistachios
70g grated Parmesan or Grana Padano
olive oil
large handful each of coriander, parsley and dill, coarse stems removed
3 T (45 ml) chilli oil
juice of 1 lemon
Method:
Process the pistachios and cheese together until very finely chopped, adding a little olive oil (about 2 teaspoons/10 ml) while the motor is running to loosen the mixture.
Add the herbs plus 1 or 2 teaspoons of salt and process until very finely chopped.
Add the chilli oil and lemon juice while the motor is running, and just enough olive oil to make a paste. Taste for seasoning and store in a glass jar for up to 1 week.
Persiana butternut with pistachios, pesto, feta and pomegranate rubies
The cover of Sabrina Ghayour’s magical Middle-Eastern recipe book Persiana
If, like me, you’re an acolyte of Persian cook and writer Sabrina Ghayour and the intoxicating Middle-Eastern recipes in her new cookbook Persiana, you’ll be needing some Moroccan ras el hanout spice blend sooner or later.
I originally published this much simplified ras el hanout recipe below in my book ‘Relish: Easy Sauces, Seasonings and Condiments to make at home’. (There are more than 280 recipes in Relish, so if you dig making your own stuff at home, it might be a handy book for you to acquire. Even has recipes for home-made vinegar from scratch, mascarpone and soft white cheese in it!)
‘Ras el hanout’ means ‘head of the shop’ and refers to a master blend sold by Middle Eastern and North African spice merchants, containing the very finest selection of spices they have available. It’s fancy, extravagant, seductive and incredibly aromatic. Potent, too: a little goes a long way.
It’s no secret that I love to cook with spices and I have a huge selection in little glass jars. When I wanted to make a batch of ras el hanout today – after spending many hours poring over Persiana’s pages, planning the next week’s cooking – I was pretty certain that I had all the required spices in stock.
Except dried rose petals, I thought – until lightbulb flash! I remembered the packet of tiny pink rosebuds I’d bought a while ago, to use as a soothing infusion for my tea-obsessed daughter. Rose petals are frequently used in Persian and some Arabic cuisines, mostly as a finishing and perfuming agent. There really is no substitute for it at all, and it is vital that the roses have not been sprayed with any insecticides or other poisons. Only 100% organic roses will do, if you want to dry your own petals.. VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: You can’t use rose petals destined for pot pourri! Those petals have been treated with orris root and other fixatives which are not safe for consumption at all.
Tiny, fragrant dried organic rosebuds available from New Asia Spice, Main Road Sea Point, or directly from www.teamills.co.za
These little buds are perfect. Delicately perfumed, perfectly dried, totally affordable, they will suit your Persiana cooking excursions very well. If you live in Cape Town, get some from New Asia Spice, that small and perfectly formed Asian produce store and grocer on Main Road in Sea Point – it’s diagonally across the road from St John’s Piazza. Otherwise, order directly from source at TeaMill – there’s a mind-blowing array of teas to choose from. The remaining ingredients are easily sourced from any Indian or Cape Malay spice merchant. The organic lavender flowers I got from a trader who sells it by the great big sackful at Oranjezicht City Farm Market. Again, you can dry your own unsprayed lavender flowers for this purpose.
Here’s the ras el hanout! Oh, and happy cooking. Persiana is something else, alright.
COOK’S NOTE: I use a Braun electric coffee grinder for the express purpose of grinding whole spices. Clean it after use by grinding a handful of plain dry rice until very fine and discard the rice powder. Use a dry pastry brush with stiff bristles to clean the rotary blade and inside of the grinder.
RAS EL HANOUT SPICE BLEND
This famous Moroccan spice blend can contain up to 60 different roots, barks, spices and powders and the name roughly translates as ‘king of the shop’, or masterblend. It can be used in everyday cooking as well as speciality chicken dishes, tagines, rice pilaffs or couscous. This version contains only 17 ingredients. Be sure to use only unsprayed organic rose petals.
Ingredients:
1 T (15ml) coriander seeds
1 T (15ml) fennel seeds
1 T (15ml) cumin seeds
1 T (15ml) black mustard seeds
20 small rosebuds, leaves only
1 T (15ml) dried lavender flowers
3cm quill cinnamon
3 star anise flowers
5 bay leaves
12 cardamom pods, dehusked
1 t (5ml) ground nutmeg
1 t (5ml) ground cloves
1 t (5ml) ground black pepper
1 t (5ml) cayenne
1 t (5ml) saffron
1 t (5ml) ground allspice
Method:
Toast the first four spices in a dry frying pan until just aromatic and the mustard seeds begin to pop.
Grind finely with the rest of the spices and store in an airtight container for up to 6 months.
Ras el hanout. Photo by Sean Calitz, from Relish: Easy Sauces, Seasonings and Condiments to make at home. Published by RHS
Fresh sliced tuna marinating in lime juice, herbs, ginger, tomatoes and chilli
Ceviche is a dish of South American origin, whereby spanking fresh fish straight from the ocean is bathed in citrus – mostly lime – juices to lightly ‘cook’ it. The lavish addition of finely chopped fresh coriander, sweet red and yellow peppers and chilli is standard; some recipes also include tomato, celery and mint.
One of the quickest, easiest and most delicious fish recipes you’ll ever come across!
As many variations of this delicacy exist as there are cooks. You can use just about any kind of fish and seafood, including crayfish, oysters, mussels, prawns and calamari, as long as it’s fresh and has never been frozen before. (Except, of course, prawns and shrimp which are always deep frozen at sea as soon as they’re caught; just make sure you thaw them in saltwater beforehand, peel and clean thoroughly before marinating.)
For my 30th birthday party, which had a South American theme, a chef friend made a very lavish ceviche that included lobster, oysters, scallops and prawns with sea bass, and we feasted like royalty – a never-to-be-forgotten experience.
It goes without saying that ceviche is incredibly healthy and good for you! The zingy, sparkling tastes and crunchy textures combine with the melting tenderness of the tuna to take your tastebuds for a whirl.
It’s low in fat, too, even when you drizzle over some extra virgin olive oil, as I like to do just before serving.
Most recipes warn you not to use oily fish like tuna or mackerel, but as usual, I threw caution to the wind yesterday when I got a delivery of two beautiful, thick-cut tuna steaks from my favourite fishmonger, Julie Carter of Ocean Jewels Fish. (What a perfectly evocative name that is, hey? Julie’s sustainably caught fish and seafood can truly be said to originate from Neptune’s treasure chest.)
The results: spectacular.
Adding fresh ginger is not strictly speaking traditional in ceviche, nor are sesame oil and soy sauce, but those three ingredients make such a perfect support act for tuna, that I added a tablespoonful of each to the marinade. Magic!
MARINATED FRESH TUNA WITH LIME JUICE, GINGER, CHILLI AND FRESH HERBS
500g -625g tuna will serve 6-8 as a starter depending on portion size; 4 as a main course.
I took one of the steaks, weighing in at about 625g, cut it across the grain into slices about half a centimetre thick, and made a marinade of the following:
Marinade:
juice of 4 limes
2 small red chillies, very finely chopped
a thumb of fresh ginger root, peeled and cut into minute matchsticks
1 tablespoonful each of soy sauce and sesame oil (preferably use light sesame oil and Japanese soy or tamari, as they are all lighter and will add to the overall freshness of this gorgeous dish)
Stir marinade ingredients together and pour this over the sliced tuna in a shallow, non-reactive dish. Best to use a dish wide enough to accommodate the slices side by side, as you want to make sure each slice has maximum contact with the lime juice, and don’t stir or fiddle with the tuna, to prevent it breaking up.
Leave in the refrigerator for no longer than 1 hour, otherwise the fish will ‘overcook’.
Now scatter over a small punnet of sliced baby rosa tomatoes, a generous handful each of chopped fresh mint and coriander leaves and half a bunch of finely sliced spring onions. Prod gently with a wooden spoon to wiggle the ingredients in between the tuna slices and let stand another 15 minutes before spooning onto a pile of crunchy dressed salad leaves. To table immediately! Fantastic with ice cold beer.
Fresh sliced tuna marinating in lime juice, herbs, ginger, tomatoes and chilliSpoon marinated tuna onto a pile of crisp, dressed salad leaves and serve immediately
Love you some crisp and crunchy fried chicken? Here it is!
We’re eclectic eaters in my house. There’s me, living mainly on plant food, raw juices and wishful thinking, my teenage daughter the recent convert to vegetarianism, my teenage son who likes all food as long as there’s plenty of it but who refuses fruit in any form, and their dad, who eats all the leftovers with a smile on his face. Oh, don’t forget two cats who eat dog food, and the Jack Russell Daisy, who is perpetually hungry and terrified of missing out on anything.
I somehow knew a spread of raw juice cocktails and a fruit platter for lunch would go down like a lead balloon today. Fried and crispy they wanted; fried and crispy they got.
Besides, I’ve long wanted to find the perfect Southern Fried Chicken recipe, and this is it. Yes, it’s a bit of a palaver to put together, and the end stages resemble a production line, but heck: it’s good.
Making sure the chicken stays juicy on the inside while cooking to a crisp shell on the outside takes a bit of nous. First marinate the chicken portions overnight in a bath of buttermilk. Don’t ask me why, Southern know-how decrees it. And it works. For all I know, you could marinate it in beer or the tears of a vegetarian locavore with similar results, but for the time being let’s just stick to the buttermilk. Y’all be down with that? Good.
Chomping down on a crispy piece of fried chicken to find pink and underdone flesh inside is a no-no. Not only a nasty experience, but dangerous too. Ever heard of salmonella? Yeah. Sidestep this unhappy occurrence by precooking the chicken – in your microwave on 80 % power for 7 minutes, or else at a gentle simmer in some stock on your stovetop for 15 minutes. Let it cool completely. I repeat, LET IT COOL COMPLETELY before moving on to the next step, which is crumbing. Have 3 bowls at the ready: one with seasoned flour, one with beaten egg and milk, and one with crumbs. Send the chicken portions through each and the last ones twice, before placing on a plate and chilling for 20 minutes. Then get fryin’.
The blue cheese sauce probably has no roots of any origin other than the fevered brilliance of my own mind (*cough*) but I felt like it, so I made some. It was good.
CRISP AND CRUNCHY SOUTHERN FRIED CHICKEN WITH BLUE CHEESE CREAM
Start by marinating the chicken the night before you want to cook it
Serves 4
Ingredients:
8 chicken portions on the bone – 4 thighs, 4 drumsticks. Breasts are no good here at all.
500 ml buttermilk
1 cup (250 ml) flour, seasoned well with salt, pepper and BBQ spice
2 eggs, whisked until smooth in 1 cup (250 ml) milk
3 cups (750 ml) fine dried breadcrumbs
oil for frying
smoked paprika for dusting
Blue Cheese Cream:
30g blue cheese, crumbled
1 1/2 cup (375 ml) cream
salt and pepper to taste (remember, blue cheese is quite salty, so taste before you season)
squirt of lemon juice
Tabasco
1/2 t (2.5 ml) English mustard powder
2 spring onions (scallions), very finely chopped
1 T (15 ml) finely chopped garlic chives
Method:
Place the chicken portions in a deep glass bowl and pour the buttermilk over it. Stir with a wooden spoon to make sure each piece is coated. Cover with clingwrap and refrigerate overnight.
About 2 hours before you want to fry the chicken, remove the bowl from the fridge. Rinse the chicken under running water and pat dry with absorbent kitchen paper. Discard the buttermilk. Wash the glass bowl and put the dry chicken pieces back in it.
Precook the chicken in the microwave for 7 minutes at 80 % power, or simmer very gently in stock on your stovetop for 15 minutes. Drain, pat dry and let cool completely.
Crumb the chicken portions by rolling each piece in seasoned flour, dipping into the egg and milk, and then rolling in the crumbs. Repeat the last two steps. Place crumbed chicken portions on a plate and refrigerate for 20 minutes while you make the blue cheese cream.
Blue cheese cream: heat all the ingredients except garlic chives together until slightly thickened. Pour into a serving bowl and garnish with chives.
Remove the chicken from the fridge and heat up enough oil to deepfry. By the time the oil is hot enough, the chicken will have warmed a little.
Deepfry 4 pieces of chicken at a time until dark golden brown. Drain on absorbent kitchen paper and dust with a little smoked paprika. Serve hot with the blue cheese cream, a heap of fries and fried onion rings, and some token salad leaves on the side for colour.
Crisp and Crunchy Southern Fried Chicken with Blue Cheese Cream
I consider it a mark of a true connoisseur if someone loves offal. Or variety meats, as the Yanks call it so daintily. It’s not an easy thing to prepare well, let alone love to eat, but seeing as I grew up in the country with a dad who really relished offal, it was perhaps inevitable that I would develop a liking for it too. Deeply flavoursome and tasty when cooked well, it can be considered a delicacy. A rare treat, even, nowadays, since very few outlets stock it. Besides, if you are going to eat meat, why not go the whole hog and …erm consume the whole hog? Far less wasteful than pretending an animal consists only of fillets and steaks.
Also, offal is hugely popular in African cuisine, so let’s just say, as an African woman, it’s my culture to enjoy it. Heritage food, you might say. In the Free State, where I grew up, kidneys are traditionally served in a slightly tart sauce – niertjies in suursous, or chopped very finely and cooked in a rich brown gravy thickened with flour. For a real treat, try it at breakfast over soft maize porridge or slap pap – what Americans call grits. Delicious!
So here goes. I found some lovely fresh, plump lambs’ kidneys in the shop yesterday and brought it home for me and Rufus to share. (Rufus being our house lion aka ginger tom.) He got his share raw, while I whipped up a panful of saucy devilled kidneys to serve over hot buttered toast for breakfast this morning.
It’s essential to clean kidneys and soak them well beforehand, as this draws out the blood and removes all traces of bitterness. You may use either milk or a brine of 1 tablespoon of salt in 3 cups of water; I use both, one after the other. Soaking time a minimum of 1 hour, although I sometimes leave the prepared kidneys to soak overnight.
Use your kitchen scissors to cut the kidneys in half horizontally, then carefully snip out any gristle and fat. Keep the kidneys as intact and whole as possible at this stage. Place in the milk or brine, put in the refrigerator or a cool place and let soak for at least 1 hour/up to 8 hours.
When ready to cook, drain the kidneys in a colander over a basin and rinse lightly under cold running water. Pat dry with absorbent kitchen paper. Using the scissors, snip each kidney half into 3 or 4 pieces. Now you are ready to cook.
DEVILLED KIDNEYS ON TOAST
Serves 2-4 as an appetiser or breakfast
Ingredients:
6-8 fresh lamb kidneys, prepared as described above
1 medium onion very finely chopped
1 T (15 ml) butter
1 T (15 ml) olive oil
1 t (5 ml) English mustard (prepared or powder) – don’t use grain or Dijon mustard, it’s too vinegary
Worcestershire sauce to taste
1/4 t (1 ml) cayenne pepper
salt and lots of freshly ground pepper
1/2 cup (125 ml) wine, beer or water
1 t (5 ml) Marmite or Bovril
1 T (15 ml) balsamic vinegar
Method:
Heat the butter and oil together over high heat in a large, heavy-bottomed frying pan. When sizzling hot, add the kidneys and onion, stir well and fry for 10 minutes.
Add all the seasonings including the balsamic vinegar and stir well. Let it cook until the sauce has thickened and spoon over slices of hot buttered toast. Grind over some black pepper, snip over some chives and you’re good to go!
